


Night Talks

by NowhereLand



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Friendship moments we deserve, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowhereLand/pseuds/NowhereLand
Summary: Michonne and Daryl have a late night talk. Confessions are made.
Relationships: Connie/Daryl Dixon, Daryl Dixon & Michonne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81





	Night Talks

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a part of my one shot series but I have zero self control so here we are. I just wanted more Daryl/Michonne friendship and I was robbed. So I’m filling in the blanks.

Michonne was always watching Alexandria. It was how she had kept every one alive, everyone happy. She didn’t sleep much, and when she did it was with one eye open and an ear to the ground. Her position on her back porch was semi-permenant; in the shadow of the walls, hidden away. There she could see everyone and no one could see her. The spot allowed her to know things: the people who left watch early, the early morning joggers, which teenagers were out on dates, and the people on walks. 

The latter always told her more than anything. The walks revealed who was restless or haunted, who was moments from a mental break, who were friends and who were lovers. It was good knowledge to have, to know, to see, and it helped her protect the community. 

It didn’t surprise her when she saw Daryl out that night. He was a frequent pacer, a standard shadow on the street. He was awake for the same reasons she was, horrors they both shared and then those things she couldn’t dream of. He always walked alone, accompanied only occasionally by that damn dog, and so the figure next to him on that particular night drew her eyes.

It was Connie, she could tell that immediately. The much smaller figure, with the outline of the curly bun atop her head moved; confirmed when they broke and she went off to the guest house as he continued up the street. It made sense with the Hilltop group leaving tomorrow that they would be together; and because she was sure Connie had seen some shit too. 

Daryl made his way toward her with his eyes to the ground. He knew her spot, he knew she probably would be there, and yet his gaze didn’t move to her. It was a distraction, fogging his head and senses, keeping him less alert than he probably should be. When he moved up the steps of the porch, his feet seemed to drag along. She smirked when his feet finally hit the warped wood of the deck.

“Welcome back.”

He jumped at the sound of her voice, head snapping to the corner where she sat. 

“Shit, Michonne.”

He breathed out, the startled tone of hushed voice not lost on her. He put a hand to his neck, as if to smoothe down the hairs that had raised there. 

“I didn’t know you had left.”

His lip disappeared into his teeth, and he shifted he weight one foot. He dropped his hand back to his side, letting it disappear into his pocket.

“Went on a walk.”

“I know.”

He looked at her, trying to straighten his back and posture, to not show his obvious nervousness and embarrassment at haveing been caught on a late night walk with Connie. He seemed to weigh between walking into the house and hide away in his basement bedroom with the dog or actually talk to her and risk having to talk about whatever it was she witnessed.

It surprised her when he stepped forward, moving to sit on the porch swing beside her. She made room for him, shifting from the middle of the bench. He was warm, his body radiating heat next to her. The swing began to gently rock as he pushed with legs, feet sprawled ahead of him, seemingly trying to soothe himself. Their eyes both went to the fence and across the houses, out of habit and out of a nagging fear that never left either of them entirely. Michonne turned to look at him and found him staring off into the nothingness of the night in Alexandria. 

“We can talk about her whenever you want.”

She watched him jump at her voice again, shoulders tensing and the muscles of his face twitching. He let out a sigh. Blue eyes flicked anywhere but at her face, avoiding having to confront what she had said. He brought his fingers to his mouth, chewing while the gears spun on his head before shrugging slightly. 

“There ain’t nothing to talk about.” 

She pulled her feet on to the bench, crossing her legs beneath her, “Seems like there is.”

He looked at her, their gazes meeting briefly before he blinked and looked away. She had seen the two together, the mutual but unsaid feelings always in the air surrounding them. Stolen glances back and forth whenever the other wasn’t looking, the smiles, the closeness. It was there, subtle maybe, easy to play off if caught in the act. But anyone observant enough could see the thickness that lay between them.

“I just- I-“ he started and stopped, mouth closing and jaw tightening. 

He shook his head slightly, as if trying to snap himself out of whatever seemed to course through his body. He shifted, trying to find some type of comfort in in what Michonne was sure he thought was a nightmare, a revelation of a secret he seemed desperate to hide from everyone, including himself. 

“You like her?” 

She offered it up plainly, her voice soft and quiet, coaxing him into conversation. She could see how tight he was, the muscles in his neck bulging his shoulders up toward ears. His skin was pink, his cheeks a rosy tint. It was a rare sight to see him flustered, and she found it somewhat amusing, but she kept that to herself. But there was an edge too, some deep rooted fear or anxiety that threatened to overtake him. 

He shrugged again but muttered a low incoherent sound that she was sure could only be a “Yeah”.

“The first step to recovery is admitting that there is a problem.” She deadpanned.

He cracked the smallest smile at that, though the tension in his body remained. She felt herself soften at the action, her lips quirking into a smile. 

“You tell her?” 

She cocked her head to the side, continuing to watch him. He was still avoiding her gaze, focusing now at the dirty denim on his knees. His hands busy picking at all the frays.

“Nah,” 

“Why not?”

His chest rose quickly, giving away his beating heart, “It’s not like that.”

Michonne narrowed his eyes, “I thought you liked her?”

“She doesn’t…”

His voice cut out as it cracked at the end of the word. He was shaky as he told Michonne the secret she was sure he’d been hiding for months. The reaction made him seem boyish, cute by Daryl standards; but she could sense his nervousness, sincere and piercing and clouding around him.

“She does.”

Michonne chuckled as she said it. Daryl finally looked at her fully, staring at her as if she had gone insane. 

The pairing _had_ surprised her at first. Connie was petite, seeming even smaller when standing next to Daryl. Her curls were soft and her face gentle lines, with those large brown eyes that always seemed to be looking into people. She was pretty, Michonne noticed that immediately, a woman who had aged gracefully even in this hell of a world. Her smile was kind and she was every kinder, willing to jump in and help at the slightest sign of inconvenience. But she was also strong; efficient and precise. Her fighting style was calculated but adpative, swift and a real threat. Watching her keep step with Daryl was a sight to behold. She was smart, incredibly so. Michonne had seen smart people in courtrooms and prisons and in the end of the world, Connie was one of the smartest. Aware and perceptive, she could read a room, the people in it, and her chances of leaving it unscathed. She was brutal, only because she had to be, and like Daryl, was built to survive this world.

He chewed the skin on his fingers again, “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t?” 

She raised an eyebrow, he bit harder on his thumb. He dropped his hand, he looked away, first to the wall and then to his knees.

“She ain’t someone who has to settle.”

Michonne let her eyes roam over his face, the scar over his eye and the grey hair on his chin. The muscles in his throat moved as he swallowed and chest seemed to heave as he sighed. He was ruminating and she swore she could see his face fall. She made her voice soft again, the type of reassuring tone she’d use for the kids.

“Well I happen to think your alright, Dixon. A little dirty sometimes but a real sweetheart. A wonderful nanny,” She elbowed him in the side, “The only man I know who can make squirrel taste good.” 

He flinched slightly at the touch, the fingers dropping from his mouth. He didn’t laugh, instead swallowing and letting out a shaky breath. 

Michonne uncrossed her legs so she could move, leaning forward. 

“Hey,” she moved her head to meet his eyes, “I mean it. You’re a good man, Daryl.”

One of the people she relied most on this world, one of the few she trusted entirely. He had been there for her for as long as they had been on the same team. He had been one of the few pillars keeping her up after Rick, even with his time spent outside the walls. He had always been selfless, throwing himself into problems and producing solutions: food and resources and muscle. Gentle in helping to raise her children. 

She’d watched him with Connie. Her face lit up when he signed, her teaching him with a glimmer in her eye. He brought her things, a handful of berries or a pen, leaving her staring at him as though he was the best thing on earth. They stood too close sometimes, their arms brushing, both looking out for others who may glance their way. They sometimes seemed joined at the hip, walking around the communities and right out of the gate. And when Connie looked at him, Michonne was sure she saw what she did. 

She squeezed his knee reassuringly. “No one is settling on you.” 

He stuck his chin out slightly as he swallowed. He turned his head down, hair falling over his face. He nodded a little, an acknowledgment that he heard her. Michonne didn’t know if he believed it.

She let her touch fall from his leg as she smiled, placing her hands in her lap. She crossed her legs again and leaned back, relaxing into her original position. He followed suit, releasing the tension in his body and letting his back hit the seat beneath them. He breathed easier, but left his hair in his eyes.

She closed her eyes, he lit a cigarette. They stayed like that for awhile, both taking in the quiet. Tabacco wafted through the air on a breeze the kissed Michonne’s cheeks. Daryl was obviously deep in thought, but he was calm and she saw an opportunity.

“I get it,” she opened her eyes and shrugged slightly, “She’s gorgeous,”

He glanced at her but didn’t respond, slightly widened eyes now on his face. The cigarette hung loosely between his lips, smoke creating a cloud around his face. She took his silence as an agreement with her statement.

“Beautiful eyes,”

“Stop,” Daryl mumbled as he took the cigarette from his mouth.

“Those curls? To die for.”

“Michonne.”

His face was red now, spreading over his cheeks and down his neck. Teasing him was one of her favorite pastimes, a sport she excelled at. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, and she smiled at her success.

“The blush looks beautiful on you, Dixon.”

“Shut up,”

She chucked and leaned back again.

He moved his fingers to pick at the frayed fabric of his jeans. It was quiet again, the two comfortably sitting in silence. A light went on in a house across the way, a shadow moved past the window. He finished the cigarette, crushing the smoking end on the arm of the swing. 

“You should tell her,” Michonne said suddenly. 

The words slipped out before she could think about what she was saying. He deserved some happiness, more than anyone. And she would relish in more material to harass him with. 

“I can’t.”

“We just went over this-“

“Don’t want to lose her.” 

He was looking at her again, head on, not hiding. There was a fear there, hidden in his eyes between the strands of his bangs. 

“That’s a risk we take to live now, Daryl.”

Michonne turned away, taking her turn to attempt to hide her emotions. Living life, with people, it meant you had to be prepared to lose. He knew that. It’s why he had opted out for all those years, trekking through the woods by himself with only that damn dog. She knew too, and knew it was why she had stayed in Alexandria; _defended_ Alexandria. It was their relaity, no matter how many walls, and it always in the back of her mind. It scared her. But she deserved to live. He did too. 

She moved to look at him a last time. 

“Promise me someday you’ll say something.”

He didn’t respond. 

  
  



End file.
